


Lovefool

by Winterotter



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Person Steve Harrington, Hurt/Comfort, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Pre-OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 12:59:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12705501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterotter/pseuds/Winterotter
Summary: Nancy Wheeler thinks she knows everything there is to know about Steve Harrington. Finding out she was wrong, changes everything she knows about herself and their relationship.A foray into post-season 2.





	Lovefool

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not honestly sure what this is? It was originally going to be a very angsty fic centering around Steve and it got out of hand.
> 
> I think I was one of the few who liked Steve back in season 1 (I knew guys like him) but season 2 sold me on him completely.
> 
> This could be read as gen, but also as pre-ot3.

* * *

 He woke to a distant feeling of pain. He knew he was in pain, but it was muted. There, but not. On the edge of his senses.

His thoughts were sluggish, in a way he recognized. The last time it had been caused by pain medication.

He took a moment to account for every ache, every bruise he could feel forming. His memories of how he got them filtering in.

He opened his eyes.

"Steve?"

Nancy leaned over him, her curly hair falling down to tickle his face.

He let his eyes fall shut.

He heard her inhale sharply, knew she was worried, but couldn't find the energy to reopen his eyes.

"Prop him up," a gruff voice, Hopper, ordered. "We need to get a good look at the damage."

Before Steve could brace for it hands were grabbing his shoulders and shifting him.

The distant pain flared back to life with a vengeance. He groaned, his head beginning to pound in time with his too fast heartbeat.

"Sorry, sorry." That voice was Jonathan. The hands lifting him?

They adjusted him again so he was reclining back against someone.

A small hand found his and squeezed, nails digging into his skin. Nancy. He'd recognize the feel of her hand anywhere.

"Harrington? I need you to open your eyes, son."

It took a moment, took too long, but he managed to crack his eyes open.

Nancy was perched beside his hip on the couch, Sheriff Hopper looming above them. Which meant the chest he was resting against had to be Jonathan's. He knew he should care. That leaning against his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend should be weird. But right now? It really didn't seem important.

"Harrington." Hopper snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Focus."

Steve did his best to glare at him.

Hopper smiled.

"Good. Now, do you know where you are?"

Steve glanced around. The kids were sleeping in a pile on the floor. Eleven, Mike, and Will in the middle. Mrs. Byers was knocking around the kitchen, fixing something.

"The Byers' house," he managed to rasp out. His voice so rough he hardly recognized it.

Nancy's grip on his hand tightened. When he glanced her way, he was shocked to see tears in her eyes.

"Nance? Alright?" He struggled to use more words, to ask why she was crying, but couldn't manage it.

She bit her lip, trembling and nodded.

Behind him, Jonathan shifted. Steve tensed, preparing for Jonathan to do - something. Stop propping him up, lead Nancy away from him. Just, something. Instead, Jonathan tucked a blanket around his shoulders, tucking him further against him. It was confusing as all hell, but strangely comforting.

Steve sighed, relaxing backwards as the warmth seeped into him.

Before Hopper could ask anything else Mrs. Byers joined them.

She passed a glass to Nancy, "get him to drink as much of that as he can get down."

Steve wasn't concerned about that though. His attention was fixed on the first aid kit she was setting up on the coffee table.

Her hands were shaking (anxiety? exhaustion?) as she cleaned a needle with rubbing alcohol.

Steve closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing steady. He hated needles.

And if his guess was right, that needle was about to get uncomfortably close.

"Steve?" Nancy's hand left his, moving to tilt his face towards her. "You need to drink this."

For a moment, he considered not opening his eyes. Considered being stubborn, just to put off that needle getting anywhere near him. But any struggle he put up would likely wake the kids across the room.

And Lord knew they deserved some rest.

He opened his eyes.

Nancy smiled, or at least he assumed that was meant to be a smile. It was more of a grimace. She leaned closer, pressing the glass to his lips.

He tried to reach up and hold the glass. But his hand only made it halfway before Jonathan was grabbing it and pulling it to rest against his stomach instead.

Jonathan's hand remained over his.

He tried to protest, he wasn't a child, but Nancy shushed him and titled the glass more insistently. He had no choice but to swallow or choke.

He made the mistake of glancing at the Sheriff. He was grinning, a sparkle in his eyes.

Bastard.

Finally, Nancy moved the glass away.

"Good job," she praised. Her tone wasn’t condescending, Nancy wasn't like that, but it was hard not to take it that way anyway.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to channel his ire into his gaze alone. He opened his mouth to say something suitably biting, when Mrs. Byers turned towards him. A glint of silver in her hands.

Steve's mouth clicked shut.

He'd been right.

Mrs. Byers smiled sympathetically at him. "I'm afraid some of those cuts need stitches, Steve."

Nancy, the only one he'd ever told his fear of needles to, picked up the hand Jonathan wasn't holding.

Steve licked his lips, "I don't suppose you'd let me have something stronger to drink first?"

It was worth a try, he figured.

Mrs. Byers and the Sheriff exchanged a loaded look.

Finally, Hopper shrugged. "After tonight? He's earned it."

Steve held his breath.

She nodded, "there's vodka in the freezer."

Hopper moved away and Steve relaxed.

It would still hurt, it would still involve a needle way too close to his face, but it would be manageable.

"Steve?"

He glanced at Nancy. She bit her lip again. It was going to be a raw mess if she kept that up. Not that it was his place to worry about that anymore.

She'd dumped him. For the boy who was propping him up. And he couldn't even be mad because he could already tell that she was happier. Even amidst the mess of everything going on, she'd been happier.

And hadn't that been a punch to the gut? She was happier in the middle of a crisis with Jonathan than she'd ever been with Steve when things were calm.

"Steve?" She repeated his name when he didn't answer. He hoped that the mess his face was in hid where his thoughts had gone.

Pretend you don't care, he reminded himself. Plant your feet, Harrington.

"Yeah, Nancy?" He carefully enunciated her name, fighting the nickname that wanted to roll off his tongue.

She frowned but shook it off.

"Thank you."

Steve blinked, some of his forced nonchalance falling away. His question on his face if not in his words.

"For..." She seemed to think about it, "for protecting Mike and the kids."

Without thinking about it, Steve glanced over at the puppy pile of middle schoolers. Dustin was snoring, his arm thrown over Lucas.

Mike was sandwiched between Eleven and Will, clutching one hand of each. Max was laying on the edge, next to Lucas. Her flame hair was bright against his dark skin.

Steve smiled, pulling on his cuts but not caring.

"I didn't do it for you."

He didn't say it to be mean, it was just the truth. Those brats grew on a person, like fungus. He hadn't had a choice, not really. Not once Dustin smiled at him. Not once Lucas and Max had looked at him like he could protect them from anything. Not once Mike asked him if he would do it if it were Nancy.

 He'd been a goner from the moment Dustin hopped in his car at the Wheeler's.

Nancy's grip on his hand got painfully tight. He looked back, but before he could say anything, apologize maybe, Hopper was back. He had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other.

"Chaser," He offered, lifting the orange juice. "You need the sugar."

He eyed Steve speculatively, before offering the bottle to Jonathan. "Don't let him drink the whole bottle."

Steve wanted to argue, but figured he was lucky they were giving him any.

Jonathan released his hand, taking the bottle from Hopper. The Sheriff had had the foresight to take the cap off so all Jonathan had to do was lift it to Steve's lips.

Steve tilted his head back and relaxed his throat. He ignored the familiar burn, concentrating on getting as much down as he could before Jonathan or Hopper took it away.

All too soon the bottle was taken away and replaced with the orange juice.

Begrudgingly, Steve drank that too.

By the end, the edge of his pain was taken off.

Mrs. Byers knelt beside the couch, the needle threaded in one hand, an ice cube in the other.

She rubbed the ice around the edges of one of the cuts on his forehead. Numbing it as much as they could outside of a hospital.

"I'm sorry, Steve, this is probably still going to hurt."

He managed a slight nod, squeezing his eyes shut as the ice moved away and that damn needle got closer.

Jonathan hummed behind him, his hands moving to rub up and down Steve's arms. Steve tried to relax - he'd had stitches before. He knew the anticipation of pain could be as bad as the actual pain.

He breathed out of his nose as the needle pierced his skin, the tug making him jerk and whine.

"I'm so sorry baby," Mrs. Byers whispered, sounding wrecked.

Something in Steve twisted. His own mother had never sounded like that, not over anything. She'd have to actually be around to react to anything he did.

Nancy lifted his hand, cradling his palm to her cheek. Steve was in too much pain to analyze the move. Only registering the comfort it brought, especially when she turned into it, pressing a kiss to his palm.

He focused on that, the feeling of her lips against his skin. On the solid warmth of Jonathan behind him. On Mrs. Byers' steady litany of apologies and assurances. On Hopper's quiet strength. On the pile of kids he didn't want to wake.

His last thought as the alcohol and exhaustion tugged him under was - 'is this what family feels like?'

* * *

Nancy ran her fingers through Steve's hair. She knew he found nothing as comforting as the steady massage of nails against his scalp.

He was still knocked out. Probably couldn't even register the comforting action, but she couldn't bring herself stop. Just in case.

Mrs. Byers and Hopper had retreated to the kitchen table, taking the bottle of vodka with them. She and Jonathan were the only ones left awake in the living room.

She was hesitant to look at him. Worried about what she may find in his gaze, what he may find in hers.

"You do love him, don't you?" Jonathan asked, his voice hushed. He was still acting as Steve's pillow. As hesitant to move away from him as Nancy.

She shook her head, "I don't know. Maybe. Yes."

Jonathan was quiet for a moment.

"He doesn't think you do." He stated.

She flinched, her fingers gripping Steve's hair. He groaned and shifted.

Nancy immediately smoothed it back down, resuming her ministrations. Careful to be gentle this time.

"No, he doesn't."

Jonathan made a humming noise. "Do you love me?"

Her head jerked up, looking at him for the first time since Steve passed out. "Jonathan! Of course, I do."

He smiled at her, way too serene for the conversation they were having. About and over her ex-boyfriend too.

"I love you too."

It was too new for her to be used to hearing it for him yet, and she couldn't help but blush and glance away shyly.

One of his hands found hers in Steve's hair, tangling their fingers together. Feeling daring, she leaned over Steve's head to press a kiss to Jonathan's lips.

He kissed her back but didn't try to follow when she pulled away.

She settled back against the couch, tucking herself closer to Steve's side.

She thought the conversation was over, at least for the moment, but Jonathan hadn't gotten the memo.

"You should tell him."

Nancy startled, "tell him what?"

Jonathan met her gaze, not letting her dance around it. "That you love him. I don't think it's something he hears often."

Nancy had to look away. Remembering how wrecked Steve had looked the night of that awful party. She hadn't remembered until after they fought about it the next day. And then she'd wished she'd never remembered.

The look on Steve's face when he'd asked if she loved him... And all she'd did was call it bullshit? It was something she'd never forget. Something she'd never forgive herself for.

Their relationship hadn't been healthy for her, she'd felt too guilty about Barbara. Hadn't felt like she deserved to be happy, with Steve especially, and it had poisoned everything.

She loved Jonathan, she really did, but it was also a new start. He was someone she hadn't put above Barb, who hadn't had anything to do with her death.

"Nancy. He deserves to know, to not think you were faking it or lying." Jonathan's voice was imploring and so, so sweet.

She swallowed. She didn't deserve him. Either of them, if she was being honest.

"I will. I promise."

* * *

Surprisingly, Jonathan was the last one to wake the next day.

Even Steve beat him up.

He was initially disoriented. He remembered falling asleep against the arm of the couch. Remembered watching Will sleep across the room until he couldn't keep his own eyes open anymore.

So how had he ended up laid out on the couch, a pillow under his head and a blanket over him? His mom?

He sat up slowly.

Max dashed into the room, laughing as Lucas and Dustin chased her.

"Share Max, Steve said you had to share," Dustin was whining as Max shielded a plate stacked high with pancakes from them.

Jonathan felt his confusion rise. They had pancake mix? Last he checked their kitchen was only stocked with coffee, orange juice and maybe some eggs.  Maybe.

His mom trailed behind the kids at a slower pace. "He's making more, leave Max alone."

It only took one stern look to quiet the protests he could see Dustin and Lucas gearing up for. Max grinned with triumph, picking up a syrup covered pancake with her hand and taking a bite out of it.

Jonathan chuckled, drawing their attention.

His mom smiled at him, "good morning sweetie."

He nodded, trying to subtly look around for Nancy. Had she taken Mike home?

"She's in the kitchen." Max volunteered once she finished chewing, winking at the jealous boys.

Jonathan tried not to immediately jump up, but judging from his mom's laugh didn't manage it.

He accepted it with a sheepish smile, shuffling towards the kitchen.

Only to stop in the doorway.

Steve, bruised face and all, was manning the stove. Flipping pancakes and frying bacon with an ease that surprised him.

Nancy was fluttering between him and coffee maker, getting down mugs and glasses for juice. Every now and then she would pass behind Steve, brushing a hand across his shoulders or the small of his back. Small, thoughtless gestures to let him know she was there.

They'd cooked together before, he decided. Often enough to work around each other seamlessly.

Something twisted in his stomach. It wasn't anger or even jealousy. It was... Wistful? He wanted to jump into the flow, help Steve plate the food or carry things to the table. But he couldn't see the current, couldn't see where he fit.

Before he could either try it anyway or join Hopper and the rest of the kids at the table, Steve turned around.

Jonathan sucked in a breath as he got a good look at Steve's face. It was a mess of black and blue bruising, the stitches fading in comparison to the burst of colors. It looked painful.

"Jon!" Steve greeted, too enthusiastic for Jonathan's taste. He wasn't a morning person, though apparently, Steve was.

 Also...'Jon'? He glanced at Nancy who was smiling brightly at him. Nancy was the only other person he'd ever heard Steve call by a nickname. He supposed it meant something. He just didn't know what.

"Morning," he managed, realizing he hadn't answered Steve.

He didn't seem to mind though, grinning despite how it must pull at his bruised face.

 “Grab some plates for everyone?" Steve asked, tilting his head towards the cabinet. "I don't know where they are."

The excuse was flimsy at best since Jonathan had seen Max with hers. What had she done to get a plate early, he wondered?

But Jonathan brushed it off, too grateful to be included to care about the rationalization.

"Sure," he moved further into the kitchen, kissing Nancy when she tilted her face up towards him.

He couldn't help but glance sideways at Steve. All too aware of his presence. But Steve was still smiling, hell, he winked at Jonathan when he caught him looking.

Jonathan wondered if Nancy had told him already and that was why he was in such a good mood. He opened his mouth, to ask, but Nancy stepped on his foot.

It was probably for the best. This soon after waking Jonathan's brain to mouth filter wasn't functioning. He likely would have ruined everything. Instead, he shut his mouth and moved to grab a stack of plates.

Between the three of them, they soon had the kitchen table loaded with food. His mom and the Hopper herded the wayward kids back to the table.

Breakfast was a messy, loud affair. But as Jonathan glanced at his smiling brother, at his happy mom and Hopper, at Nancy and Steve sitting on either side of him, at the kids who felt like honorary siblings... He wouldn't change a thing. 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> For now, this is just a one-shot. Let me know what you thought? Should I continue it?


End file.
